


That Something Special

by Miraphina Atherton (mew_tsubaki)



Category: NCIS
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, bc they aren't agents all the bloody time, i need more domestic scenes with the agents tbh, or is it? B3c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29254083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mew_tsubaki/pseuds/Miraphina%20Atherton
Summary: Bishop, Torres, and a Sunday morning spent critiquing spring cleaning techniques.
Relationships: Ellie Bishop/Nick Torres
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	That Something Special

**Author's Note:**

> The NCIS characters belong to Donald P. Bellasario, not to me. S17 was a rollercoaster and gave me a lot of feels—luckily my Ellick ones were quite positive, *lol*. So here I am, at three in the morning, back on my bullshit and blessing us all with more of these babies. XD Read, review, and enjoy!

"Sundays are like the cherry on top…"

"I thought cherries are supposed to top sundaes. What kind of crazy person eats a sundae with cherries hidden on the bottom?" Torres interjected. He rummaged through a clearance bin on his left in the aisle and pulled out a pair of novelty erasers; they were cartoon cherries. He held them out to Bishop. "Cherries on the bottom means you're eating yogurt, baby. And someone cheated you out of your hard-earned ice-cream."

Bishop rolled her eyes and took the erasers from him, returning them to their bin. "I meant on the _weekend_ , Nick. And some people prefer expensive, fruit-on-the-bottom yogurt."

He snorted.

She couldn't retort. Each and every impromptu late work night or a surprise crash at Gibbs' or some combo of them—her, Torres, McGee, Palmer, Kasie—hanging out only gave further evidence that Eleanor Raye Bishop was the junk food queen. And that meant full-fat, all-the-mixin's, all-the-toppings ice-cream sundaes. It didn't help her case that she'd had one such sundae just last night.

Luckily, Torres caught on it that was time to drop that line of conversation. "I can see why you hit the store after a night of binging, though," he announced. He swerved his head left and right and back again. "Never did I imagine an art supply store giving me a workout. But it's like entering a maze in here. With multiple floors and things to trip over on the dusty tiles. And the occasional thing to duck from up above," he added, pushing a long wooden panel beam back into proper place on the shelving.

"Yeah, I can kill two, three hours here easily," Bishop said with a shrug, "and that includes visiting each level a couple times." Beyond the canvas-making supplies, she spied sculpting materials. She grinned and jerked her head towards the clay. "But sometimes I only pick up one or two little things, like a block of clay."

"That's it? Two hours and all you—" Torres stopped short, mid-attempt in lifting said block of clay for her. It budged, as she'd expected it to, but it also made him strain; she could tell by the flush on his neck and cheeks, and it was hard not to tease him, given his weightlifting obsession. "Okay, that's cheating. This is a trick block of clay."

"No, actually, it's not, but don't worry, I'm not interested in buying that today," she assured him. She patted his arm and left it there to help pull him away (and was she imagining things or was Special Agent Nicholas Torres _glaring_ at a fifty-pound block of artists' clay?) as they wandered through the labyrinth back upstairs to the paints, both traditional and spray.

"Then what _are_ you here for today?" Torres asked. His arm had slipped so that his wrist was now comfortably in her gentle grip, and he kept pace behind her so she didn't truly have to tug him along.

Bishop shrugged. "Probably a little bit of the same old, same old," she confessed.

"You go through materials that often?"

She chewed on her lower lip. This was…strange. And new. Of course the team knew about this side of her, but she hadn't ever really sat down with anyone and talked about her art or her process, not since the tagging case. And she for sure hadn't ever brought anyone along to the store with her before.

Torres tugged his wrist back and quirked his uneven eyebrow when she looked over her shoulder at him.

"I…," she began, "go through materials, yes. But sometimes there are new colors or similar things made by brands I like. I've been doing a lot more mixed media lately, so I like to see what things work together."

He pursed his lips together, but it wasn't to withhold some teasing remark. "Mixed media…," he echoed. "Like…crayons and paint in one picture…?"

She grinned. "Yep. Sometimes the most inexplicable things make the best pieces!"

Torres chuckled. She didn't blame him. Even she blushed in embarrassment, hearing the exuberance in her voice.

But, hey, this was what Sundays were for.

Bishop ended up buying four new cans of spray paint, a new jar of acrylic gel medium, and a set of the store's newest and hottest-selling item, jelly gouache. She still wasn't certain how she'd like the jelly gouache, but it was worth it trying to teach Torres how to say "gouache" and discovering all the adorable ways he butchered it (not that she was much better, she realized when the cashier tittered at both of their pronunciations).

"So what comes after an art supply run?" Torres asked outside the store.

"Eh, usually a pastry. A bearclaw if I'm unsuccessful, jelly donut if successful."

He shook his head at her. "If this store weren't within reasonable walking distance of your place, I'd definitely be turning into the Donut Police on you. I've still got the fastest time on Gibbs' team, based on the last two evals." Torres raised his eyebrows as they began a slow walk up the busy sidewalk.

Bishop's smile was wide, but she grew quiet. She linked her right arm with his left, her bag of purchases swinging between them. It would've been uncomfortable had the paper bag not had its short, twine handles and therefore left the cans to clatter against their knees. But, as it was, the items bumped softly against the hems of their jackets, necessary layers for the chill outside in early spring.

…and that's what got her thinking.

"Hey, Nick?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you concerned at all about McGee not joining us for last night's movie marathon?"

They were halfway to the end of the block and reached it before Torres nodded. "…yeah. It's been, like, a month since that whole spring cleaning thing, but Delilah Marie Kondo'ing him…" He winced. "Don't get me wrong: I love to tease you nerds. But I wouldn't do that to you—throw out stuff that means something to you."

Bishop blinked at him.

"What?" he said dryly. "You look incredulous."

"Well, I—I can admit I'm genuinely surprised," she corrected. "You're a good guy and I know you care about us, Nick, so that's not the surprising part. I'm just surprised you gave it so much thought since you didn't seem invested in spring cleaning much."

"Wow," Torres deadpanned, "you nerdy kids are mean."

She knew it was all right to laugh when he couldn't keep a straight face and broke into a brief smile, though. "You know what I mean…!"

But the levity was fleeting, and the moment passed as both their minds clearly reviewed details from the last few weeks: Their friend looking a little thinner, a little paler, a little more tired. Not to mention how irritable McGee was the last two weeks alone, snappish even to the likes of Kasie and Ducky. McGee hadn't mentioned Delilah once, but he'd mentioned in passing visiting his sister soon. Mostly if McGee talked about home right now, he talked about the twins and that was all. It was writing on the wall that even a trifocal wearer could see from a mile away.

Seeing how McGee's side of things was unfolding had Bishop reevaluating how she and Torres had handled their cleaning, too.

"To think spring cleaning could screw up the lives of one of us…," Torres thought aloud. He shook his head and whistled, mumbling something like a quick blessing in Spanish underneath his breath.

"Hang on—you really saw nothing wrong with your approach?"

Torres shrugged. "I said it then and I'll say it again: I don't have much, but I love all my stuff and have nothing to chuck. I am impervious to Miss Marie Kondo."

"Nick," Bishop prodded gently, "you don't have much because you don't know permanence." She tucked his arm more snugly in the crook of her elbow, hugging it tight. "You're not deep undercover anymore. It's okay to plant some roots."

Her words left Torres quiet awhile. Bishop peeked up at him, noted the hard line of his jaw, and decided to give him the chance to process her analysis. All the while, she didn't let him go, even when the doorway to the coffee shop near her apartment begged entry one at a time.

Considering the outing and the conversation, Bishop bought both a jelly donut and a bearclaw, and she started in on the jelly donut once back outside, wondering if Torres would start talking again.

"Your approach sucked, too, you know."

Any other time, she might take offense. Instead, Bishop offered him the jelly donut, he took a bite, and she continued to munch on it while he formed the rest of his thoughts.

" _You_ cleaned up _way_ too much," Torres declared, emphasizing with his eyebrows jumping into his hairline. "That freaked me and McGee out, Ellie. It's as if—as if you'd had the chance to look back on the last few years and cleared out so much in an effort to nab a fresh start."

Bishop furrowed her brow. "Is that such a bad thing?"

Torres' frown turned more puppy-like pout.

She hugged his arm again. "You two don't need to worry about me doing anything concerning, honest, Nick. But…a fresh start…yeah, that kind of sums it up for me."

"Terms like 'fresh start' don't really calm me down, you know."

Bishop handed him the rest of the jelly donut—there were only two bites left, anyway—and led the way as they crossed the intersection to arrive at her street. "I don't have plans to change agencies again. But there's been a lot on our plate these last few years…and a lot of change we didn't wish for." She debated thinking aloud "A lot of _loss_ ," but instead she tucked her chin into the collar of her jacket.

In her mind's eye, she saw all the items she'd organized, stored, recycled, and tossed. And they were a record of one loss after another. Reeves. Qasim. Even Jake, though donating her ex-husband's remaining clothing to a local shelter had been a silver lining.

"This time," she finally said aloud when they came upon the steps at the entrance to her building, "spring cleaning meant more. Chucking things has never been so cathartic." Bishop rested her head against Torres' shoulder when they sat down on the second-to-last step. They watched their breaths fog for a couple minutes as a few of Bishop's neighbors came and went on the agents' right side.

"…I guess I can understand that," Torres eventually said. He rested his elbows on his thighs and linked his hands casually between his knees; sitting like this, Bishop could still hold on to him, and their legs mostly aligned, exchanging heat. He turned his head towards her, though, when he spoke, his chin brushed the top of her head. "Sorry, by the way."

"Hmm?"

"I was the pot calling the kettle black. You were…right about my approach—so right, I freaked a little." Torres snorted softly at himself. The motion blew warmth into her hair.

"For what it's worth, I didn't mean to freak you out."

"Nah, I know. It's just…" Torres looked out at the street and the occasional traffic that would crawl by. Then he rested his cheek atop her head. "You're right. I have nothing begging my permanence because I've had to live a light life given my undercover career."

Bishop squeezed his arm again. "Sixteen aliases and addresses," she mumbled.

He snickered. "Seventeen, if we count my new home here in D.C. and the addition of 'Luis.'"

Even she couldn't help chuckling at that. They'd had some close calls as Charlie and Luis, but those aliases certainly were unforgettable…!

Torres sat up a little straighter. "But maybe you've got the right idea," he announced, offering her a hand up since it was cold enough outside that they could no longer keep each other warm.

Bishop raised her eyebrows. "Which idea is that?"

"The fresh start one. It doesn't have to be a big change, but fresh starts…those are things we have control over, yeah?" He shrugged and took her bag of art supplies while she got her keys out; he seemed reluctant to release her other hand. "So I'll rethink this 'permanence' thing."

"Good for you, Nick." She glanced at him over her shoulder and did a double-take, any teasing, friendly remark caught in her throat.

It wasn't just the softness of his hand around hers. It was the softness in his eyes when their eyes met, which additionally made it hard to look away. That softness which said that perhaps he was hoping Bishop might give him some permanence.

But honestly? It didn't catch her entirely off-guard. McGee and Torres had been shocked, sure, to see her haul after spring cleaning…but it'd been necessary. In life, people came and went, things appeared and disappeared, and moments were fleeting. But, Bishop conveyed as she tugged Torres back to her side and they disappeared inside her apartment, she was hoping Torres would give her something worth holding on to.

**Author's Note:**

> :3c Ah, yes. Sometimes, revisiting a fic two months after you start it (esp when you start it in the wee hours of the morn ;P) is the best way to finish it! As mentioned in my A/Ns in "[a shared hypothetical](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28947711)" and "[Redo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28948095)," I have a bunch of s17 Ellick ideas, and this is one of them…but this was inspired by an episode/scene that actually quite upset me, hence having Ellick discuss the Marie Kondo thing. It was fun to explore that upset, tho, and take it down a path where Bishop and Torres could critique each other as well as themselves while expressing concern for McGee. Plus opening with them at an art supply store was a change for me! XD (I was sorta thinking of Blick, if anyone reading knows the chain, but also of some of my fav indie art stores, since I also draw! :3) And a shout-out to jelly gouache—I researched it last year but have yet to try out the paint myself. XD Anyway, FLUFF bc I need more fluff with Ellick. I mean, that boy is just so soft when it comes to Bishop—his heart could not be more visible on his sleeve. :') …but I think she's rly been showing her feelings more and more canonically, lately. Hence they are each other's "something special" that would make Torres stay and would give Bishop some _one_ to hold on to. ;D
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please review/comment! Check out my other NCIS fics if you liked this.
> 
> -mew-tsubaki :D


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